Miss Earlsome .... her romantic Valentine ..... and a fine row of houses ..... Oxford Street 1819

 I am a romantic and always have been, so the sight of a 19th century Valentine letter was all I needed to start a story.

That romantic poem, 1819

More so because the owner asked for my help in unravelling the mystery of an amorous poem sent to a Miss Earlsome of Goolden Place, Chorlton Row.

It belongs to Graham Borrill who asked “I hope you can help.  I have a beautiful hand painted Valentine’s letter and poem sent to a lady in Chorlton in the Regency period. 

Miss Earlsome of Gooldon Place, 1819

I’m trying to identify any connections I can from the name and address. The best I can see is a Miss Earlsome, Goolden Place, Chorlton. The postmark is a pre-paid mark for Manchester 13th Feb 18-9 (probably 1819)”.

Like many people Graham assumed that it was destined for Chorlton cum Hardy and back then Beech Road was indeed known as Chorlton Row.

But there was something in the place name of Goolden Place that rang a bell and knowing that Chorlton Row was also the earlier name for Chorlton on Medlock I took a trip down Oxford Street in 1849 and sure enough there it was, a row of terraced houses between Rosamund Street and Booth Street.

As for Miss Earlsome, alas she remains elusive, but I did find an Alexander Earlsome born about 1812 and buried on January 19th, 1829, in Ardwick which is very close to Chorlton on Medlock.

And for now, that is all I know, leaving me to explore that row of houses and the surrounding area.

X marks Goolden Place, 1849

By the early 18th century, Chorlton Row was seen as a desirable area to live away from the growing “busyness” of Manchester.

Goolden Place seems to fit into these new developments.  

It was situated on the eastern side of Oxford Street, just opposite and down from All Saints Church.

I rather think it dates from around 1819.  

They don’t appear on Greenwood’s 1818 map of Manchester but were there to receive Miss Earlsome’s romantic letter a year later.

Added to which  there is a record of the burial of George Frederick Chritcley on December 11th 1819 in St Luke’s Church, Chorlton on Medlock. He was 14 months old the child of James and Emma Critchley and lived in Gooldon Place.

The Rate Books for 1822 show the seven properties were owned by a John Gooldon and I guess he built them and fourteen years later were acquired by his son Peter Gooldon.

Oxford Road, 1959

Gooldon junior continued the work of his father who had converted one of the properties into mixed retail and residential and in that year all seven are listed in the rate books as “house and shops”.

 

By 1863 we know something of the retail character because according to Slater’s street directory the occupants were listed as a fancy repository, manager, confectioner, draper, clerk, stay maker, iron monger, fruiterer and chemist

The block seems to have been demolished by 1912 to make way for the Grosvenor cinema which is still there on Oxford Road, and the corner of Grosvenor Road.

Waterloo Place, Oxford Road, 2025

So, while the residents and names of businesses appear on the 1911 street directory which was published in January by April when the census for that year was compiled none of them show up.

Some of the houses further south in the row may have survived and in 1929 the occupants include a milliner, chemist, gowns, and ladies’ hairdresser.

Either way all of these have vanished by 1954 when the street directory lists only the cinema and the business of C.R. Harrison and Soms who were Cinema Furnishers.

By the early 1970s, I remember the spot next to the cinema had been cleared and was waste ground.  

Today it is mostly occupied by Manchester Aquatics Centre.

I cannot find any photographs of Goolden Place, but the Library’s Digital Archive includes several rows of terraces from the period.  Only one block still stands which is Waterloo Place next to Manchester University.

Mr. John Gooldon's seven, 1822

There will be more and in the fulness of time I am convinced Miss Earlsome, will come out of the shadows after 2007 years.

For now I am content to record that Peter Gooldon was born around 1803, was a solicitor living in Rusholme, presided over the Quarter Sessions in the 1830s and had a vote based on property ownership.

Well it’s a start.

Location; Oxford Street, 1819

Pictures; Miss Earlsome’s romantic message 1819, courtesy of Graham Borrill, Goolden Place,  1849 from the OS map for Manchester and Salford, 1844, by kind permission of Digital Archives, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/, row of houses Oxford Road, 1958, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass, and Waterloo Place, Oxford Road, 2026, courtesy of Google Maps

Beech Road on Jubilee day May 6 1935

What I like about this picture of Beech Road in May 1935 is that it wasn’t taken by a professional but by someone I know.

 Marjorie Holmes captured the day of the old King’s Jubilee on what looks like a bright spring day.




Picture; from the collection of Marjorie Holmes, 1935

Sandcastles and deck chairs beside the River Thames at the Tower of London

It is one of those odd things about growing old that you do begin to question your own memories.

I was telling a friend about building sandcastles beside the Thames in the shadow of Tower Bridge and because she was more than a little sceptical I did just begin to think that I had invented it.

But no I was right.  In 1934 1,500 barge loads of sand were deposited on the stretch of beach in front of the Tower.  It was such a success that during the first five years thousands flocked to sit on the sand beside the river.

By the 1950s when I too played there it was a little less attractive and you were likely to pull up some rather smelly things while building your sandcastles.

But it was still fun.

Sadly it closed in 1971 because it was thought the river was too polluted.

Now I have to say that this surprises me given that when I was growing up we were told that if you fell into the water it was an automatic stomach pump and a spell in hospital.

Twenty years earlier when the beach was opened children swam in the river, paddled in front of their parents and the only concern was if they got out of their depth.

All of which is a lead into the picture of the beech with the Tower behind it and a total absence of sand.

Location; London

Picture; The Tower from the River, from the series London Town and City, issued by Tuck & Sons, date unknown, courtesy of Tuck DB, http://tuckdb.org/

Stories of demolition part 2 ……. Manchester 1971

Sometimes you come across a picture which is not  just a record of an event, but offers up so much more.

So here we are with an unnamed building somewhere in the heart of the city going through the last stages of its demolition.

The fittings have gone, along with the doors and even some of the fire places, leaving it a precarious place for the demolition teams, who seem to thrive on the chaos, the smell of  dust, broken plaster, and the odd surprise.

Location; Manchester

Picture; demolition, 1971, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass

Beech Road in the summer of 1932

We are on Beech Road in the summer of 1932.  

Judging by the shadows and the activity it must be sometime in the

morning.

The manager of John Williams and Sons looks on as his assistant sweeps the pavement in front of the shop and beyond him other shop keepers are laying out their produce.

As yet there are few people about and most of those are on bikes are more than likely out on their first delivery rounds.

Most seem oblivious to the camera, except that is for the two by the lampspost who have stopped their conversation to gaze back at the photographer.

The picture perfectly captures Beech Road in the early years of the 1930s.  The stone setts on Wilton Road have yet to be covered and the old railings around the Rec are still in place, otherwise it is not so different from today.

Of course the absence of cars is quite striking as are the shop fronts with their tall windows,  and painted signs.

What is all the more remarkable is that it is a scene which is more familiar to us than to those who walked the road before 1930.

I had always assumed that the row of shops which included John Williams & Sons had been built sometime soon after the beginning of the 20th century.

The site had originally been occupied by Sutton’s Cottage which was a wattle and daub dwelling and may well have been built in the early 1800s and was demolished in 1891.*

So it was reasonable enough to assume that the plot was built over soon afterwards but not so.

The other surprise was that John Williams and Sons were not local traders but in fact owned a chain of grocer shops across the city and beyond which in 1931 accounted for 41 shops of which there were three in Chorlton**, six in Didsbury and

another four in Rusholme.

Now I rather think there is a story here.  Back in 1895 they are listed as John & Sons with five shops in Didsbury abd Fallowfield which by 1911 had become 11 with John Williams described as managing director and the head office at 400 Dickinson Road.

Later still although I can’t date it is a wonderful advert for the company which advertises their ‘“Dainty, Delightful Delicious Tea, [from] John Williams & Sons limited, “The Suburban Grocers”, [at] 28 Victoria Street Manchester Stockport & Branches’.

And looking at the interior of one of their shops sometime in the early 20th century there is more than an element of “class” about the place.

So while the shelves groan with tinned produce and between the potted plants are the familiar posters advertising Californian Apricots at 6½d, and Coffee and other things, it is less cluttered, less in your face and far more discreet.

All of which makes me wonder at what our own shop on Beech Road would have been like, but that like the full story of John Williams and Sons will just have to wait.

Location; Beech Road, Chorlton


Picture; from the Lloyd Collection, 1932

*Sarah Sutton http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/sarah-sutton-life-lived-out-on-row.html

**32 Beech Road, Wilbraham Road, 211 Upper Chorlton Road.

Megalosaurus … the dinosaur with a story … today on the wireless

Who doesn’t like dinosaurs?

Or perhaps less like and more fascinated.

All of which is a lead into this week’s In Our Time on BBC Radio 4 which is all about Megalosaurus which the accompanying notes to the programme tells me was “The first dinosaur to ever be scientifically named, almost 20 years before we even had the word ‘dinosaur’. 

In 1824, the geologist and priest William Buckland (1784-1856) stood before the Geological Society of London and announced something that would kickstart two centuries of dinosaur science. 

He’d been studying large, fossilised bones which didn’t resemble those of any living animal - and, as he told his rapt audience at that meeting, he had a new name for this mysterious and unusual creature: Megalosaurus. 

Misha Glenny and his guests discuss why the 19th century was such profound period of theological and scientific change, and how our understanding of mid Jurassic dinosaurs has changed since. 

This In Our Time episode examines the story of a dinosaur that led to palaeontology as we know it today. 

The discussion explores the influential roles of William and Mary Buckland, how we learn about animals from over 160 million years ago, and why you’d never have seen a Megalosaurus and a Tyrannosaurus Rex together.

With Emily Rayfield, Professor of Palaeobiology at the University of Bristol, Emma Nicholls, Vertebrate Palaeontologist and Collections Manager at Oxford University Museum of Natural History and Steve Brusatte, Professor of Palaeontology and Evolution at the University of Edinburgh

Producer: Martha Owen

In Our Time is a BBC Studios production”

Location;  In Our Time, BBC Radio 4

Pictures; In Our Time logo, courtesy of  the BBC and Doris the Dinosaur, 2020, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Megalosaurus: the first dinosaur to ever be scientifically named, In Our Time, BBC Radio 4, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m0032fqb

Travels with a box of toffees to the Tower of London and beyond

The quality of the images is a bit iffy, but they perfectly recreate the London I knew when I was growing up.

London Bridge , 1956

They come from the book, London by Cyril Bunt which was published in 1956 in a series called Journeys Through Our Early History.

Mr. Bunt wrote a lot of books in the 1950s and most were aimed at children as is this one, which recreated the city as it might have been in Saxon time.

And here I have to admit that of all the periods of the past, the Saxons and Vikings rank pretty low on my step ladder of interesting periods in history.

Still, Mr. Blunt did  a good job of making Saxon London believable, and in the process filled the book with a series of interesting illustrations of London life in the Dark Ages.

But what really drew me in, were the pictures of the city in 1956.

True, they may have dated from a few years earlier, but they were close enough to set my memory running.

Cranes, and boats and cars, 1956

It starts with the skyline which is not dominated by tall commercial blocks reaching to the clouds, but by nothing taller than a church spire.

While the river is still a busy working place with cranes, warehouses, and ocean-going ships.

During the 1950s I regularly walked over London Bridge, usually on a Saturday as the start of an adventure which often ended at the Tower of London, but which would also take in  the fish market and the equally smelly little streets around the Monument.

Never underestimate the excitement of setting off armed with just your pocket money of 2/6d, and knowing after you had paid the price of the return to London Bridge, the rest was yours too spend on whatever came your way.

This involved a packet of Poppets*, which were always bought at the same slot machine just outside London Bridge Railway Station.

Now when you are ten, there are plenty of adventures you want to share with your friends, but the Saturday morning trips were best done without the distraction of others, partly because I never quite knew where I was going to end up, but also because to share the walk got in the way of my imagination.

And there was plenty of scope for that in those twisty streets around Billingsgate.

Walbrook, 1956

Get there early enough and the workmen were still cleaning the streets of discarded fish and ice, which gave off that distinct smell.

Even more exciting was the Tower itself which was free to youngsters on a Saturday, and no matter how many times I went, each dollop of the Castle’s history was new all over again.

On a particularly hot sunny day there was the option of going down onto the beach in front of the Tower at low tide, and while there was still sand, it was strewn with the debris of the river, from lumps of wood, broken bottles and unpleasant things which had once been alive but were no longer.

The River at King's Reach, 1956

Alternatively, there was always the aimless walk around the city, which by degree might end up at St Paul’s, the Embankment or eventually Trafalgar Square.

All of which was a long way from London Bridge, but then there was always a bit of that 2/6d which could be used to buy a journey on the Underground.

Looking back, those adventures lasted but a few years, and the move to Well Hall offered up different things to do.

And when I did retrace my steps a decade or so later, so much had changed that the magic was lost.

Location; London

Pictures; London in 1956, from London, Cyril Bunt 1956 

*Poppets were  soft centered toffees, which came in a small red carton.  They came on to the market in 1937 and wee made by Payne’s in Croydon, and to my surprise  are still manufactured today.